A/N: This lovely little piece was written for the beautiful Amymorgan for her winning bid in the September Support Stacie Auction. You all should thank her tremendously. If you like it, haha. If you don't... well, then... ouch. ^_^ Here's hoping you like it! Also a million and one thanks to my wonderful, fantastic beta-extrodinaire, pwtf. I'm not freaking out right now because that chick has my back like an fashionista has clothes. She's amazing.

I do not own Twilight or Edward. I only like to make them do my bidding. Mwahahahaha! This is set a few months after Edward meets Bella. They're still very new to each other. And Edward is a bit of a perv, haha.


~*~The First Break~*~


I watched longingly as she left the parking lot in that old, beat up truck. What was wrong with me? I shouldn't have had the urge to kiss her before she climbed into the beast, or more prominently, ask her back to my place. She was seventeen for Christ's sake!

And the age of consent in Washington is sixteen.

No! I was not going there. It didn't matter that she was legal in that sense; it was wrong in so many other ways. I was her teacher! And I wasn't that kind of guy, either. If I ever slept with Bella, it would be because I cared about her and wanted a relationship with her, not because I needed a good bone.

But you do care about her.

I couldn't deny myself that fact. I'd only known Bella for a few months, but it felt as if I'd known her my whole life. The feelings she evoked were something I rarely felt with anyone, but for some odd reason, my heart wanted to open up to her.

She knew bits and pieces of my history with my sister and how I dealt with the loss of my parents. She knew my favorite books and music and that I hated grapes and bottled spaghetti sauce. She knew how I felt about religion, how I'd nearly lost my faith in God, and what my political views were. She knew it all, because I wanted to tell her.

I wanted her to know me, to know where I came from and what made me the way I was. I wanted her to see past the label of 'teacher' and into the person. And she did. She knew me and got me, even parts I didn't fully understand myself. It was incredible to be that close to someone. It was also terrifying.

Getting to know someone on such a personal basis always came with the risk of getting your heart slightly chipped or completely shattered, but doing so with a student made the risk even more dangerous. It was no longer just my heart on the line, but also my job and reputation. I just couldn't get her out of my head long enough to focus on the consequences.

Everything about her was intriguing, and I absorbed every detail of information she gave me and even more of what she didn't. She held nothing back, but there are things about a person that they can't tell you themselves. I found out quickly that by studying her face, I could almost tell what she was thinking – though she was the most difficult person I had ever tried to read.

She was everything and nothing I expected her to be. Her passion for writing and creating was unrivaled by anyone I had ever met, but she felt as though her work was mediocre at best. She was incredibly mature for her age, not just her actions and demeanor, but her thoughts as well. And yet, there was something so young and refreshing about her. She had a heart the size of an ocean and no matter how hard I tried to deny it, I wanted to be immersed in her love and kindness.

There are a few other parts of her you want to immerse yourself in, too.

My fingers squeezed the steering wheel in protest to where my mind had just gone. It was perfectly fine to be more than acquaintances with a student, even become friends, but the other thoughts in my head needed to stop. It was not all right to want a romantic relationship with her, and it was definitely not all right to imagine my seventeen year old student on her knees in front of me, saying dirty things before she takes my cock in her mouth.

Unfortunately, the image of Bella's dark hair cascading over her bare chest as she worked her mouth on me was not something that I could just get rid of, and my pants were becoming uncomfortably tight as I drove home.

Old Mr. Donald's teeth, Mrs. Cope in lingerie, Emmett's prune and raw egg concoction, Mrs. Cope pouring Emmett's concoction all over her body...

Yeah, that did it. I shuddered, trying to rid myself of the curing picture as I locked my car.

I made my way up to my apartment and popped open a beer before pulling out a piece of chicken to thaw for dinner. I would be eating alone again. Emmett and I ate dinner together sometimes if neither of us had plans… well, if he didn't have plans, but tonight was his third date with Nurse Patty from the Forks hospital. Damn the fucker to hell, he was probably getting some tonight.

I hadn't gotten laid in six months. After Carry, I just wanted to be a free agent for a while, but now that I was finally ready to be with someone again, I couldn't get past a first date.

No, you couldn't get past the fact that they didn't have deep brown eyes or mahogany-colored hair and their name wasn't Bella.

Ignoring one's mind is a hard accomplishment and nearly impossible to master. I'd had a lot of practice since the day I met Bella, but my thoughts still betrayed me more often than not. Plopping down on the sofa, I figured a movie was the best way to get her out of my head. I hit the movie menu and scrolled down till I found something interesting.

Never Been Kissed, I snorted. Not that I would choose that movie to begin with, but the irony of a supposed student teacher attraction was not lost on me. I scrolled down a little further and saw Notes on a Scandal. Okay, this was ceasing to be funny. When I hit the next page and saw Wild Things right after some creepy horror flick that Emmett made me watch where a girl falls for her teacher, I turned off the TV and threw the remote to the other end of the couch.

I took a deep pull from my beer and set it on the end table. The universe was not being kind today, and now the racy scenes from a few of those movies were running through my head with Bella as the star. The frustration from not getting a release earlier was making my current problem all the more difficult. Without much thought, I ran my hand over my pants, feeling my jaw go slack at the contact. It felt so fucking good.

I tried not to think of Bella, but my mind always went back to her. Whether she was naked, clothed, standing, or laid out beneath me, it was always her. I stroked myself again through the fabric of my slacks and let out a gust of air as I imagined Bella sitting beside me on my couch, kissing my neck and using her hand to pleasure me.

I wanted her so badly I could taste it, but my thoughts flashed on Bella smiling at me over her tattered copy of Romeo and Juliet and I stopped immediately. What would she think if she knew what I was doing? I wanted to believe that she'd be turned on, but I knew she'd think me disgusting.

With clenched fists, I got up begrudgingly from the couch and made my way to my computer to check my email, snatching up my beer on the way. I would need a cold shower in a few minutes, and then I'd fix myself dinner. There were a few junk messages that I deleted right away, and I replied to chain joke email that Emmett sent me, coming finally to a new message from Rosalie.

I wanted to read it, but I didn't know if I could handle the anger and regret that came from every update she sent me. I was stuck staring at her name for several minutes before my eyes drifted down to an email from BellsOnSwans(at)yahoo(dot)com. I smiled and clicked it open.

Hey Edward,

I know we just left, but I got this great idea for the magazine and I had to share it. What if we had the art students create sketches and such to go with the writing we select? It'll be a way to get more students involved and I think it's that missing something that we've been talking about. What do you think?

Bella

Edward. I'd put us on a first name basis over a month ago and I still got a thrill whenever she said it. Hell, she didn't even say it. It was written on my computer screen, but the sight of it made my heart leap in my chest. I sent back a quick reply and turned off the computer, making my way to the bathroom for that shower. How her calling me what everyone else called me could get me even more turned on was beyond my comprehension at the moment.

I turned the water as cold as it would go and stepped in, clenching my teeth to keep from squealing like a little girl. When I was good and flaccid, I turned up the heat and let the water warm me before I uncapped the shampoo.

As I scrubbed my scalp, my mind took me back to when I'd first met Bella. She was gorgeous, with her hair pulled back in a loose French braid, stray wisps curling about her face. She wasn't like the other high school girls that waltzed though the halls in heavy makeup and flirty clothing, trying to catch the eye of someone special. She wasn't like most women, in that way.

She had a natural beauty that might have been enhanced by lip gloss and eye shadow, but I really couldn't tell. She dressed nice, but her style was understated. That first day of LitMag, she wore form-fitting jeans and long-sleeved cotton shirt, low-cut just enough to show off her collar bones and the tiniest hint of cleavage.

It was her eyes that caught me entirely off guard, however. They were a beautiful shade of brown, like fresh coffee with flecks of caramel. Where most young women had a playful, innocent gaze, hers was deep and profound, still innocent, but with a knowledge that even some middle-aged women didn't carry.

"I'm Mr. Cullen, and you must be Bella?" I asked, holding out my hand. She shook it with an odd mixture of confidence and timidity. It was completely endearing.

"I am. It's a pleasure to be working with you. Mrs. Haussler's told me a bit about what you're aiming to do for the school and the English program and I think it's wonderful."

I grinned bigger than I had in a while and gave Bella a rundown of what to expect as Editor in Chief. At the time, I blamed my smile on the compliments Bella had bestowed on me, but in reality, I was more enraptured by her complete being than I was in anything that had to do with the magazine or my involvement in it.

As the meeting progressed, I couldn't take my eyes off her. There were other students there, all interested in what I had to say, but she kept drawing my attention back to her without even trying. When she smiled, I could feel my own lips twitch in response, and when I heard her laugh for the first time, my stomach was doing back flips.

Later that night, I told myself that my excitement was the result of working on the magazine with several talented young minds, and that I could put aside my inappropriate fascination with a student just as easily as I had succumbed to it. I didn't find anything all right in lusting after a teenager, and I was sure that I could get over her charms with little effort. Oh, how wrong I was.

I hadn't even realized that I'd made my way down to my dick and that I was several strokes past getting clean until my erection started pulsing in my hand. I hadn't been thinking of anything overtly sexual, but my body had been screaming for a release all day and I couldn't deny myself any longer.

I thought about Carry at first, but she did nothing for me anymore. We'd had a good time together while it lasted, but she got serious and I just couldn't, making the time I spent with her less fun and more fight. Moving on, I pictured Scarlett Johansson removing her clothes in a seductive striptease. It was hot, but it wasn't long before the Hollywood blonde became a stunning brunette with porcelain skin and a pointed chin, giving her face a vague resemblance to the shape of a heart.

I tried to shift my mind again, but my cock wouldn't listen. It wanted Bella and only Bella and as she trailed her hand gracefully down her naked stomach, I couldn't bring myself to care that I was a pervert.

She looked me in the eye, though hers were heavily lidded, as one hand methodically pressed and pulled at her nipple and breast, the other playfully dipping below the edge of her black lace panties. She was sprawled out on my couch, her legs spread and bent at the knee as I looked down at her from the far end.

Her hand disappeared behind the lace and she gave a small cry of pleasure, her brows furrowing, but her gaze never straying from mine. I could imagine her teeth digging into her soft, lower lip and my hand sped up involuntarily. I had to force myself to calm down. I hated myself for submitting to my desires, but if I was already going to Hell, I was sure as fuck going to enjoy the ride.

When my stroking was set back at a steady pace, I resumed my fantasy and could feel my own teeth digging into my lip. I was hovering over Bella, our skin only separated by a thin layer of humid air.

"I want you so badly right now," I whispered roughly in her ear. "I want to drive you to scream my name and make you mine. I need to fuck you."

"Please, Edward, I need to feel you inside me." Bella begging for my cock was the sexiest thing I'd ever heard, and I wanted more of it, even if it was all in my head.

I touched against her, just barely, the smooth surface of my shaft grazing under the wetness of her pussy. "Tell me what you want, baby."

"You, just you, please," she whimpered as I pressed myself a little more firmly to her heated center.

"I want to hear you say it, Bella. What do you want?"

Bella bucked her hips once and dragged her teeth along my earlobe before whispering exactly what she wanted. I squeezed harder and slowly pulled away from my body, only to come right back again.

"I want you to bury your cock so deep inside of me that I'll be able to feel you in my very soul," she whispered breathlessly. "And then I want you to fuck me so hard and fast that every time I move in the next week I'll be able to feel you, like you're still between my legs."

The words affected me so intensely that I almost forgot I had created them. I needed to be consumed by her in every way possible.

As I entered Bella, I fisted my hand at the tip of my cock and pushed through. Bella gasped my name and I began thrusting into my hand, imagining her writhing beneath me. She was so fucking beautiful, her hair fanned out and wild on the cushion beneath her, her breasts bouncing with every rock of my hips and her mouth forming the little shape of an 'o' as I brought her to orgasm.

I felt the burning sensation down my spine and the hot squeeze of my balls as I came. My knees felt shaky and eyes felt pleasantly heavy, but what was more, I felt like I was going to be sick. The water streaming down my back was starting to cool, but I didn't care. I'd crossed the line.

I'd been able to tell myself that I could resist her. I was sure that it was a passing crush I could just ignore. But I gave in. I'd put off masturbating for months because I didn't want to risk using her, and in a matter of minutes I had disregarded everything I was trying to do.

I got out of the shower and threw on a pair of sleep pants and a t-shirt before making my way to the fridge for another beer. I pulled open the fridge and stared at the six-pack sitting there with one bottle missing. I rarely drank to get drunk, but beer was just not going to cut it tonight.

I shut the refrigerator door and made my way to the hard liquor cabinet, pulling out the Crown Royal. I didn't like to flaunt my money, but I wasn't going to settle for Jack Daniels when I could have something a hell of a lot smoother. I grabbed a glass from the next cupboard and poured myself a generous amount.

I stood at the counter sipping my first glass and then poured myself another. The warmth that started in my stomach had spread to my cheeks, but I still felt like a horrible human being. I just wanted it to go away. I poured out a third glass and took both it and the bottle to the living room. The lights were off and the sun had gone down. Though I could make my way by the light from outside the window, the darkness engulfed me.

I'd failed her. My whole life all I'd ever wanted to do was make her proud and I failed. My mother had taught me good from bad, right from wrong, and I couldn't do the simplest of things to honor her memory without ruining it in the worst way. I could almost see the look on her face when she'd find out what a pervert her son was; the disappointment in her eyes, the small frown where her beautiful smile should always be.

I finished off the third glass and then took a swig from the bottle, letting the glass fall sideways out of my hand. I could feel the alcohol working its way through my brain, blurring my vision and dulling my senses, but the ache was still there. I ached for so many things, and in the end they all amounted to pain.

I ached for my parents, but they were gone forever. I ached for my sister, but my pride was too important to me. I ached for a woman, but the only one I wanted was forbidden. I ached for Bella, but the consequences were far too great. I ached to be rid of my feelings for Bella, but the thought of not being with her almost hurt worse than everything else.

I pulled out my phone and just stared at Bella's number. I drank again from the bottle, contemplating what I was about to do. If I called her, if I told her everything, it would all be over. She would have me arrested or fired and I would have to move back to the house. I wouldn't be a sick freak anymore, staring at her, wishing she was mine.

But as I held my thumb firmly on the send button, the thought of never seeing Bella again and the last image being of her repulsed face crippled me. I wouldn't survive that.

I pushed buttons in random, taking out my frustrations on my phone and then threw it on the ground. When I looked at the pathetic little device lying open on hardwood floor, I felt my heart break a little. It didn't do anything wrong, but I hurt it because I was a weak piece of dirt. I didn't remember drinking the rest of the bottle of whiskey, but when I tried to pull from it, it was empty. I crawled over to the phone after failing to stand. I finally made it and stroked the sides of the tiny silver device.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered. "I didn't mean it." I thought I might have heard the phone talking back to me, but shook it off. I was drunk enough to talk to inanimate objects, but not enough to think they could talk back. "She makes me do things I don't do. I mean, I do do them, but I didn't. Or I think I didn't. I mean, I never thought I do… would. I'm so sorry."

I listened again to the phone just to be sure, but there was nothing. I sighed in relief. I didn't want to add crazy onto the list of names I'd been calling myself, though it might not have been too far off the mark.

I stayed on the floor for a few more minutes, letting the booze settle a bit. When I was ready to move, I decided I wasn't drunk enough. I was able to make it to my feet with the help of the table and a chair, and then I made my way to the cabinet, taking a swig from the first bottle my hand found. The shock of the taste made me cough a little even though the alcohol was smooth. I had grabbed the quarter-empty bottle of Patrón. Good as any, I guessed.

As I took another swig, my head started pounding and I lowered the bottle, looking at it in confusion. You weren't supposed to get a hangover till the morning after, I'd thought. I heard the pounding again and realized it wasn't inside my head, but was coming from the living room. When I got there and focused a little, I could hear a voice as well.

"Damn it, open the door before I knock it down, Edward."

I stumbled across the room and fumbled with the lock. When I finally got the door open, I squinted in the light from the balcony. The hulking form of Emmett McCarty was standing in my doorway wearing an angry expression.

"Are you going to kill me?" Emmett and I had become great friends since the start of the school year – I would even go as far as to call him my best friend – but all things considered, in my drunken haze he looked more like the angel of death.

"I just might," he said, pushing his way past me.

Any other time, I would have moved, or at least caught my footing after the fact, but the alcohol had slowed my response time exponentially. When Emmett made his way into my apartment like he always did, I fell backwards trying to catch the wall on my way down. I hit the ground with a thud and didn't bother getting up. Screw being a good host. I was drunk.

"Edward, what the hell? How much did you have?" I didn't answer. He'd figure it out himself. "Edward." The voice was closer. "Shit," it whispered and then I felt a tingly stinging sensation in my cheek where Emmett had slapped me. My eyes popped open to a calm face, disappointment lacing its features. "Wake up."

"I'm awake, asshole." He didn't respond to my anger, only helped me to my feet.

"Come on, let's get you to bed."

"No." I wasn't ready for bed. I could still see Bella in my head and my mother's face and I couldn't deal with that shit. I needed more tequila. As soon as Emmett saw where I was headed he caught onto the back of my shirt and I hit the ground again. "You know, if you're gonna make me fall, you might consider catching me, too."

"It's more fun this way."

"Asshole," I said under my breath. Or I thought I did. The deep baritone laugh coming from above me meant Emmett heard me loud and clear. At least he wasn't disappointed in me anymore.

"What happened, Eddie? I know this is about a chick. I heard 'she' something and 'sorry,' so what did you do?"

"My mom hates me," I said honestly. He wanted to know, so I would tell him.

I felt him stiffen behind me and then shift to the side before he came into view, sitting on the ground beside me. His face was sober now, no trace of the earlier humor he'd been expressing. Neither one of us talked for several minutes – or maybe it was seconds, I didn't know.

"Your mom died a long time ago, Edward."

I nodded, "Yep." Emmett waited and I could feel the words coming up like vomit. "She wanted me to be good, but I'm not. I'm a fucker. I want to fuck 'er," I laughed at my little joke and then stopped. Just another thing for my mother to disapprove of. I put my head in my hands and toppled to the ground. "Fuck."

"Whoa, come on." I felt Emmett's hands grip my shoulders and lift me into a sitting position.

"I can see her face," I whispered. "The frown and sad eyes because I can't do anything right. I'm such a fucking screw up."

Emmett didn't say anything, but helped me to my feet once more and walked me to my bedroom. I collapsed on the bed, barely registering the sound of my best friend rifling through my possessions. He called my name a few times when he got back and I only opened my eyes to avoid getting slapped again.

"Look," he said and shoved my wallet in my hand. It was open to a picture of my mother and father on their twentieth wedding anniversary, the year before they died. Dad was looking at Mom as she looked at the camera. "Who took this picture?"

"Me?" I knew, of course, that I'd taken the picture, but I didn't understand what that had to do with anything.

"Right, and how is your mother looking at you?"

I looked at the picture again and could feel my chest squeezing as my eyes struggled to stay dry. Love was the only word that came to mind when I looked at her. She loved me even though I'd broken her favorite serving dish just that afternoon by roughhousing with one of my friends.

"It's not the same."

"It's always the same. You think I don't do a hell of a lot to be a pain in my mother's ass? I know you Edward, and whatever you think you did wrong, it doesn't matter to her. Even if you killed a priest, she'd still be right there holding your hand if she could." Emmett paused a moment. "You didn't kill a priest, did you?"

I shook my head and looked at the picture. It had been a while since I'd opened it. It was one of the best pictures my parents had ever taken. She was like an angel sent down to earth just for him and, eventually, for Rose and me as well. And Emmett was right. I'd messed up and I was crushing hard on a student, but my mom would never abandon me. She'd stand by me regardless of the wrongs I'd committed.

I couldn't fully get over my anger or self-hatred, but I was able to forgive myself just a little. I'd given in to the fantasy, but I'd take no actions to pursue Bella in reality. I couldn't help my feelings for her, but I could keep them buried so long as I didn't get too close. I would be able to live with myself if I could just do that.

I didn't remember Emmett leaving or the world going dark as I closing my eyes. In fact, the next morning when I woke up with a piercing headache, I didn't remember much of anything. How much alcohol had I consumed? I made my way to the kitchen and found the Patrón. What happened to the whiskey that I'd started with?

As I headed to the living room, I heard a choked snore come from the direction of my couch. Why was Emmett here again? I remembered his presence, but for the life of me couldn't remember why. I kicked the massive leg that was hanging off the side and my hulk-like friend stirred awake.

"What happened to Patty?"

"You called in the middle of dessert," he said groggily.

"Oh, God-"

"Not that dessert, dumbass. Do you really think I'd answer my phone if I was getting a little somethin'?" I sighed in relief. At least my drunk-dialing hadn't been more than just inconvenient. "Besides, I was looking for a way out of it anyway."

"I thought you liked Patty."

"I did, until she started going on and on about her ex. I'm not into chicks with baggage."

"I'm going to laugh when you end up with the three kids and a loser ex-husband scenario," I said with a small grin. Emmett tossed one of the throw pillows at me. "So what happened last night?"

Emmett looked up at me with a speculative expression, but didn't say anything. He looked as if he was trying to decide what to say. After a few seconds he just smiled shook his head.

"You don't want to know, man. You don't want to know."

I tossed the pillow back at him then and fell onto the couch. "Game's on. Want to stay?"

"Sure, I'll get us some beers."

We spent the day yelling at the TV and laughing about Patty's anger issues, but I couldn't get rid of the weight that seemed to take up residence in the pit of my stomach. No matter how I tried to ignore the heaviness and doubt, it felt like there was only a matter of time before my entire world came crashing down around me.

You are so screwed.

Unfortunately, I couldn't disagree with myself.


A/N: Yes, no, maybe? Edward had/has some issues, haha. I'd love to know what you think and then next chapter of Lessons in Forbidden Love will be up soon. Thank you so much for reading.